Why? What have I done?
by StrangersPearl
Summary: My sister once said "Nooo! What kinda 'I'm-trying-to-survive-the-second worldwar-basement' is this" Imagine that you were locked up in a cell like that. With your least favourite person. Constructive criticism is allways welcome.
1. ch 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize (especially not Harry or any other character from the Potter – verse), and I'm sure somebody somewhere has thought and/or written this plot before me.

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Chapter 1

Why? What. Had. He. Done? Did he _really_ deserve this? These questions ran through 17 – year – old Harry James Potter's head. But the main question was why this happened now. Come on! He had done what they wanted him to do! He had killed Voldemort. Butchered him. Murdered him. Executed him. What – ever synonyms to 'kill' that anyone can think of. And yes, it was terrible. Now he had blood on his hands. But that's war. To kill or to be killed. And if he hadn't stopped Lord Mouldyshorts… well, more people would be dead than alive. And it was after all his destiny.

…_and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…_

Trelawney's prophecy had come true, at last. But not the way he had expected. Well, anyway… DID he really deserve this? Hadn't he suffered enough? Ten years with the Dursleys. Ten years with hard words and cold eyes, and sometimes even physically abuse.

If you looked from the bright side of this, he would probably never meet his relatives again. But then again, he wasn't sure that he would come out of this room alive.

When he started his first year at Hogwarts, things changed. He got friends. And he learned that Voldemort was still out there, somewhere, waiting for the chance to get back to the power. And he wanted Harry dead. But Harry won that time.

The Dursleys weren't too bad that summer. They were afraid of his magic. The memory of Dudley screaming since Harry had threatened to set the hedge on fire still made him smile.

Harry met Voldemort again four times. The fourth was the last. He thought he would feel free. Relived. Something good. But he didn't. Too many people had died. His parents. Cedric Diggory. Sirius. Seamus, Lavender and little Dennis Creevy. Fudge. Percy. The list went on and on.

So many people had died during the battles. So why on Earth didn't anyone _kill the bloody bastard that was also there in the dark room?_

Harry was used to small, dark spaces. But he wasn't used to share them with another person. He really hoped that the overgrown bat was claustrophobic, but there was no use to get his hopes up. He didn't want to sleep. Who knew what could occur then? The only thing he could do was thinking and waiting for something to happen.

* * *

Time. In reality, time just isn't. There is no thing like time; it's just the humans that are rushing through life.

Harry didn't know if this was true, but he knew that right now, time didn't mattered. His eyes had got used to the dark, and he could see the other person from across the room. He could hear his breathing too. It was regularly at least. He wondered what happened to Ron. The last thing he had seen from his best friend was he and Draco Malfoy duelling. He hoped that Ron had survived. Not that he doubted Ron's magical skill. No, he certainly wasn't. But it was in a battle. As far as Harry knew, somebody could've cursed him from behind. Why did he think of this? That would just make him depressed. No, he had to think about something else. Like… where was his wand? He had lost it in the middle of the battle. He closed his eyes and saw Neville sprinting forward with it, to give it to him. But something had stopped Neville… Why couldn't he remember? Think harder! _Come on, Potter! This isn't the right place to have amnesia._ Then he remembered. He felt how bile went to his throat, and it took a few minutes before he was sure that he wouldn't throw up. Neville had tried to give Harry his wand, but Bellatrix Lestrange was faster than either of them. She had cursed Neville with at least three fatal hexes, and then summoned Harry's wand. She laughed when two pieces of a broken stick fell to the ground.

Wasn't there _anything_ he could think of that didn't make him ill, depressed or inclined to commit suicide?

After a frantic research through his brain he had the answer 'NO!' in bold, shining letters.

* * *

Tap. Tap. Tap. _Oh sweet _Merlin Tap. Tap. Tap. It was dripping somewhere in the room. Tap. Tap. Tap. _Great _Lord, _how annoying!_ Tap. _Okay, need distraction. Need distraction now. _Tap. Tap. Tap. _What can I do? Can't think. Can't sleep. Can't give the git a big punch. Can't read. Can't write. Can't come out. Can… can… _sing_! That's it! I can sing. But what…?_

Soon a hoarse, fragile voice echoed against the small rooms stonewalls.

"Ninety – nine bottles of bear on the wall, ninety – nine bottles of bear. Take one down, pass it around, ninety – eight bottles of bear.

Ninety – eight bottles of bear on the wall, ninety – eight bottles of bear. Take one down, toss it around, ninety – seven bottles of bear…"

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"Sixty – five bottles of bear on the wall, sixty – five bottles of bear. Take one down, grab it around, sixty – four bottles of bear.

Sixty – four bottles…" A noise was suddenly heard in the room. Harry stopped singing. It seemed like the other person had woken. Bloody fantastic!

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A/N: Well, this deserves a review, don't you all think? (Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.) 


	2. ch 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter and his friends. J. K. Rowling does. And if you haven't read her books or don't know who this Harry Potter might be, then you don't belong here.

Very important cough A/N: Any spelling and/or grammar mistakes are here forth seen as a jokke.

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Have you ever had an elephant running over (and maybe jumping on) your head? I dare say you haven't. Harry Potter had never felt that much of a headache (it had felt more like the head splitting open the times the scar really had hurt). But he was almost sure that the headache Professor Severus Snape (a.k.a slimy git a.k.a over grown bat a.k.a Snivellus, etc. etc.) for the moment endured was like ten running and jumping elephants. He couldn't help but to snicker evilly.

The first thing Professor Snape did when he woke up was to curse his own existence. Harry understood why. He would've too, if he had come across that spell. That however, didn't mean that he wasn't gleeful. Snape had made a hell for Harry during Potions classes when Harry went to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the truth was that Harry would give him some pretty nasty spells, if his wand wasn't lost and broken.

Then something occurred to Harry: Was Snape's wand still with him? It wouldn't be good if Snape had a wand, and Harry didn't. But then again, _if_ Snape had a wand… maybe they could break out from this damned cell. Hallelujah!

In all honesty, Harry waited at least a couple of minutes to give Snape some time to recover before bothering him with questions. It wasn't his fault that Snape was in a cranky mood. It wasn't he who had cast that spell… um… yes, it actually was.

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"So…" Harry said when Snape had stopped swearing. He enjoyed seeing his silhouette jump in surprise. "How does our _dear_ Sleeping Beauty feel today?"

"Potter? Is that you?" Even though Snape's voice was full with hatred and loathing, Harry could hear a surprised tone in his former teacher's voice.

"No. It's your conscience. You should be nice to students, especially students from the Gryffindor house."

"Of all the students in Hogwarts, including the confounded Know – it – all, it was bound to be _you_."

"Of course Professor", Harry cheekily said. "Aren't you happy? Now we can have some time alone, far away from any disturbances…" He flattered his eyelashes, though he knew that Snape couldn't see it. Snape remained silent, ignoring him. He was probably trying to remember what happened. After several minutes in silence, Harry began to wonder if he had died. Unfortunately Snape was alive, proving this by speaking.

"Where are we, Potter?" Harry could tell that it had cost some of Snape's pride to ask him. Well, that was always something…

"I don't know." He shrugged his shoulders. Strange. Even though he knew that nobody than him would know (and see) what his body did, he still shrugged his shoulders, nodded or shake his head. He was almost certain that Snape was rolling his eyes because of his least favourite student's answer. Git.

"How's your head, Professor?" He asked in a mock concerning tone.

"That's none of your business, Potter", Snape snapped. So his headache was still there… Good.

Silence remained.

"Do you have your wand?"

"You shall call me 'sir' or 'professor'", Snape all but barked.

"You're not my teacher anymore", Harry informed him in a cool voice. "Do you have your wand?" Snape seemed to argue with himself before he grudgingly muttered:

"No."

Great. He was stuck with a person that hated his guts before he even had met him. Neither of them had a wand. There wasn't a way out. The only positive thing Harry could think about was that Snape had a really bad headache and couldn't cast a spell on him. Tap. Tap. Tap. Harry barley convinced him self that banging his head in the stone wall wouldn't make anything better.

* * *

"Hermione." His voice was low, barley above a whisper.

"I told you to call me 'sir'."

"No, I mean: Hermione! What happened to her? Is she alive?" Harry's stomach turned unpleasantly. It took some seconds for Snape to answer. Harry wasn't sure if it was for the headache, or for Snape's amusement to know something Harry didn't.

"The last time I saw her; yes. She was conjuring away Goyle Senior's front teeth. Then, we were divided." Harry let out his breath. He didn't know if he could handle another death.

"What about Ginny and Luna? Didn't they follow you as well?" Snape snorted.

"They certainly were, but I transmitted them to Madam Pomfrey. They were better off healing people than killing them." That was an uncharacteristic incite of Snape, Harry thought.

"Molly Weasley would have me killed if I let her daughter fight in a battle", Snape said under his breath, but Harry heard him. Both of them returned to each other thoughts. Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Well", Harry said after awhile, false cherish in his voice, "at least we have some water."

* * *

Snape had gone back to sleep. Harry guessed that it was a side effect from the spell. _So, what to do?_ He didn't want to start singing again; his throat had begun to hurt. It would be fun to prank Snape… but he didn't have the things a great prank needed to have. Speaking about that… where was his invisibility cloak? And the Marauders' Map? All his things, all the items he cared about (even the _persons_ he cared about) seemed to be spread with the wind. What if he never found them again, when he had come out? What if he never found any of them? He would be alone... with a lot of cats like his only company. _That's great! I'll be a male Mrs. Figg!

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_

Tap. _Fifty – five._ Tap. _Fifty – six._ Tap. _Fifty – seven._ Tap. _Okay, this wasn't fun…_ Tap. _Fifty – eight._ What else could he do? Snape was sleeping. And Harry was beyond bored. He began to feel apathetic. _When we have survived this and are out, I will write a book. Bet everyone will buy it just because I'm the Boy – Who – Lived. How depressing…_Tap. Tap. Maybe he could count the drops in French? He vaguely remembered an older girl trying to teach him spell the numbers. She had lived rather near him, at Privet Drive, but then she moved. He didn't even remember her face. How long time ago was that memory? Tap. Tap. Tap. _Um… let's see…_ Tap. Tap. _Um…un? _Tap. _Yeah, that's it. Un._ Tap. _Deux. _Tap. _Trois._ Tap. _Quatre._ Tap. _Cinq._ Tap.

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A/N: Wow! I've got _reviews_! I didn't really expect that, excluding you, Magge. Thank you. Thank you so much! 

**The REAL Cheese Monkey:** Thank you! I hope you continue to read (and review, wink) this story.

**necromann666:** Yeah, I am. Are you? I saw that you have put up my story under "favourites". I'm very flattered.

**loveli:** Thank you! I checked your profile, and it's kind of scary, because it could describe me too… except that I'm Swedish and doesn't understand that many languages… and I haven't seen/read so many anime/manga… yet.

**BlondeMoments:** I didn't expect you to review, but I'm glad that you found it acceptable.

**magGE:** Thank you /gleams with pride! About Snarrys… _EEEEEEEWWWW_!


	3. ch 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own nothing.

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_I'm in a room, made of stone. There is some water dripping in. There is a possibility that this cell is under the ground. Like…like a basement or something. But there is no light here. Well, a little… I can see Snape's silhouette, right? That means that there are light somewhere, if only a little… How did I end up here? I don't know… Oh great! I'm talking to myself! Isn't that a sign of madness?_

After going from French to Germany and eventually to Japanese, Harry had lost the amusement of counting water drops. Instead, he tried to locate where he was. After the fight Harry didn't remember anything, except some white light and Snape. And then he woke up here.

"So you haven't any clue where we are, Potter?" Snape's voice startled Harry so much that he nearly jumped high in the air of shear surprise.

"How long have you been awake?"

"I heard your attempts to announce the Japanese numbers. You were failing miserably, like always." Harry hadn't a good response on that one, so he just kept quiet. After a few minutes Harry began to speak.

"I think we're in a basement of some sort…"

"And how did you come to that conclusion?" Harry hadn't known that, if you listened carefully, you could hear if the person that spoke was sneering.

"The walls are to smooth to be a cave, at least not a natural one. And I think we're under the ground, because of the water and the light comes from the ceiling." Snape was silent a few seconds before he talked.

"If you study the light enough, you'll see that it's vaguely green. That means that it's not daylight, but shining fungus. That authenticate the theory that we are under the Earth's surface. The question is how we can breathe…" Snape muttered. Even though it sounded like he talked to Harry, the later doubted that. His guess was that Snape was thinking aloud. And Harry didn't see a point to interrupt him.

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Tap. Tap. Tap. Harry's throat burned. His tongue felt dried and sticky. Tap. Tap. Tap. He moved cautiously to the left, where the dripping seemed to be. Snape still mumbled under his breath. Tap. Tap. Tap. Harry lifted his hand to catch some drops in it. The movement caught Snape's attention, who with incredible speed lunged forward at Harry. The stone wall was pressed at Harry's back, Snape partly over him, holding his hands in a firm grip. His dark eyes glimmered in the dim light, and his crooked nose was awfully close to Harry's face. He could feel Snape's warm breath against his skin. 

"Don't. Do. That. Again. _Ever._ Do you understand?" Harry could only stare at him with wide eyes. Snape's face came closer. "I said: Do you understand?" Quickly, Harry nodded his head. Snape didn't seem pleased with just that, but he leaned back, still with a firm grip around Harry's wrists.

"Do you have _any_ idea how dangerous that was, Potter?" Harry tried to interrupt, but Snape just continued. "That 'water' could just as well be some fatal potion. _We don't know._ And until we do, you are not going to try to drink, or in any other form consume, this liquid. Am I clear?" Again, Harry nodded. This time, Snape seemed to think that it was enough. He slowly released the boy and moved to the other side of the room, still observing the teen. The thought to fight back never occurred to Harry before it was too late.

So, he was thirsty. That wasn't a real problem. He had been thirsty _and_ hungry when he lived with the Dursleys. Some days he hadn't got any food at all. But he had got water. Not as much as he had wished for, but he had got it. And then, it wasn't dropping water from the ceiling. Tap. Tap. Tap. In that moment, Harry knew what real irony was. Tap.

* * *

"Who would give us poison?" Harry asked at last. 

"Who would put us in this room?" Snape shot back. Harry would never admit it, of course, but the slimy git actually had a good point.

"You know", Harry said to no one particular, "I always thought that Voldemort would kill me. That I would die in the last battle, if I were lucky and lived that long. Not that I would kill him, and then after that get locked up in a small cell with the biggest prat on Earth."

"Don't tell me you're claustrophobic, Potter." Harry didn't exactly know why, but he began to giggle feebly. Snape gave him a strange look, but he didn't care. Suddenly he began to think of something.

"Hey! I survived, right? That means that I can do whatever I want now!"

"As you didn't do it anyway", Snape muttered. Harry just ignored him.

"Then I can live with Remus! ...Well… After we is out of here." Snape didn't answer to that. Strange. Otherwise he would say something mean, but now, the man just kept silent. Maybe the headache was still there. "And we're going to have a big house with a big garden. And…"

"It sounds like you are engage or something", Snape remarked snidely.

"Me and Remus? Engaged? Eew! He was one of my dad's best friends!" A sudden look of distress and regret crossed over his face. "He said that he promised Sirius to look after me", Harry whispered so softly that he wasn't sure that Snape heard him. Just as good. That sentence had brought back so many memories of his dead godfather. Sometimes, even this long after his death, Harry could still think _Oh my god! He's dead. He's not coming back._ He guessed that you never really got used to think about someone you knew, as 'dead'.

What he didn't know was that Snape was watching him all the time. And therefore, decided the Professor not to tell him what he knew about the werewolf. He could always tell later, when he needed an upper hand.

"So the Dark Lord really _is_ dead?" He asked instead.

"Yeah… I think so…" The teenager answered hesitantly. His fingers touched his forehead where the scar, formed like a lightning bolt, used to be. "My scar is gone… That wouldn't happen unless he was gone, right?"

"Thank Merlin for that!" Snape exclaimed. "I haven't endured seven years of Potions classes, three years of Occlumency training and two years of fencing and duelling practise unnecessarily."

"_You_ have endured!"

"Yes, you are quiet dense, Potter. If Professor Dumbledore hadn't insisting how important those lessons were I would've not even considered learning you." It felt like Harry's blood was boiling inside the body. His magic wanted to come free, to fry the bastard and his abnormally large nose. His knuckles turned white of the effort to keep the hands off Snape's throat.

"It didn't help", he snarled instead. "I couldn't keep him out. So I let him in."

"What are you talking about Potter?"

"The Occlumency didn't help, neither did the duelling. I let Voldemort into my mind." There was a silence and then:

"You did _what_?" It was kind of funny that Snape sounded very much like a snake when he was really angry.

"He broke my defences, so I thought the best thing I could do was to let him in."

"Do you _even realize_ that he had a better chance of winning if you let him in? Didn't you listen when I told you that! Don't you get _anything_?"

"No, it's _you_ who don't get it! I broke him by showing him my memories!"

"Memories of what?" bellowed Snape. "Idiotic actions? Believe me; if he saw half the stupid things you and your little friends have been doing during the years, he would have died of shock! The hope that the humankind would remain reasonable must be just a dream as long as you live, Potter!"

"You… you weren't even there! You don't know _anything_! If I had done what you had said, then we would be dead. But with a later thought, I think I would prefer to be dead instead of being locked up here with you!"

"You are too emotional Potter." Was it just him, or did Snape sound disgusted? "You should be thankful that I agreed to teach you Occlumency after the _accident_ in your fifth year. Without me, Potter, you wouldn't be prepared for the mental battle." Harry didn't answer to that. There was no use; Snape would never listen to him. No matter what.

It wasn't like Snape thought. Harry had tried to keep Voldemort out, but the Dark Lord was too strong. So instead Harry had let him in, to show a few collected memories. The Dark Lord didn't seem to appreciate them, so therefore Harry showed him some more. And some more until Voldemort had gotten a heart attack or something like that, and died. It was kind of terrible to see him, the person that once had been Tom Riddle, lying there dead, unseeing, with a trickle of blood in the corner of his mouth. Harry shook his head, trying to clear it from his friends, his family. And then everything seemed to be fuzzy. He remembered Snape coming, shouting something. Harry wasn't in a particularly good mood, so he cursed him with the strongest non – deadly spell he knew. Someone screamed of rage, and the next thing he knew, he was in a white light with Snape… and then he was in the room. But who screamed? It was high. It could've been either a man or a woman. But most of the male persons had gotten over the voice changes… So it was more likely to be a woman… that supported Voldie…

"I think I know who sent us here", Harry croaked. Snape looked up, his face unreadable.

"Oh, do you Potter?" Why did the man _always_ make him feel stupid? Harry hoped that the headache hadn't gone yet.

"It's the cow Bellatrix L…"

"I know", Snape interrupted. A smile without happiness broke out in his face when he saw Harry's expression.

"You… know…"

"Of course I know", snorted Snape. "I tried to warn that she was behind you, but you sent off that spell." He gave Harry a pointed look.

"You… tried to… warn me…"

"Shut your mouth Potter. You look like a fish." Harry abruptly closed his mouth. "I believe that we are in cells of Lestrange Manor. One of their most secret cells, that is."

"And how many know about this cell?" Harry guessed that Snape gave him an impatient look, but it wasn't worth that much in the dark.

"Well, obviously the Lestranges. There are not many wizards or witches outside the family that know about the 'inner cells' like this one. I doubt that any living wizard on our side knows about this."

"Can't they track the spell? Or the cell itself?"

"It would be possible, but the tracks disappear after a day or so, and the risk is that our companions may not have figured out that both of us are missing."  
That was the problem of wars. People went missing. Everything, everyone, was just a mess. And in most cases were the people missing never found again.

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A/N: Thank you for those who reviewed! 

**magGE:** Thank you. That means a lot!

**necromann666:** Well, the chapter's up now. What do you think about it?


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